


Meanwhile in Gamma Quadrant

by StSebastian



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StSebastian/pseuds/StSebastian
Summary: What happened to Julian when he was in the Dominion prison? A few things actually. Some of them not so bad.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Meanwhile in Gamma Quadrant

**Author's Note:**

> I always felt curious about what happened to Julian when he was kidnapped. How he would deal with the life there alone, the only human in a prison for spies? How he became friends with a Klingon general? So I decided to answer that and wrote my very first fic. It took an unexpected turn.  
> Fic takes place in between the scenes of the glorious two parter In Purgatory's Shadow & By Inferno's Light.

Garak offered to walk Julian to the runabout. It was just a few days away for medical conference yet Cardassian tailor insisted on closing his shop midday. They stopped just outside the airlock.  
\- I’m certain that a limited supply of jokes about medical conferences and tropical climate has been exhausted long ago. I shall not tread that beaten path and just will bid you farewell. May your travels be safe and your return swift. You will be sorely missed by everyone, and not just because your replacement has a rotten bedside manner. I’m sure Chief’s shoulder will be in need of repair by the time you are back. And you know how I hate to eat my lunches alone. So make sure to invite me when you are back - He put one hand on Julian’s shoulder and put a small flat package into his hand. A bar of Delvian chocolate, of course. Garak squeezed Julian’s shoulder and looked into his eyes just for just a few seconds and then swiftly walked away. There was a feeling in Julian’s stomach. He will miss that spy. And the rest of his life here of course. Well, at least he has chocolates.  
Inside the runabout Julian turned on some music. The trip was just under 24 hours. He was not the best pilot, but he liked to think that he was better than any other doctor in this sector. But soon his mind returned to research, and he turned on the autopilot, his time was better spent on those proteins. Navigation beeped satisfyingly and Julian dug into experimental data. He got distracted many hours later by long ignored hunger. Soon the runabout was filled with of nutritious and healthy replicated smells, but there was something else in the air. Julian’s nostrils flattered he felt a bit light-headed. How bizarre, he wasn’t that hungry. He felt the light tug of a tractor beam on a runabout as he slid down his chair into the floor.

He woke up with a headache, his hands tied behind his back. It was dark and smelled vaguely like metal and lubricant. The seat under him was vibrated reminding him of the days then Defiant inertial dampeners were still not calibrated. The light turned on, and he found himself in the room smaller than his closet, sitting on grated floor. At the same time vibration disappeared, and he knew the ship came to a stop. One of the meal wall slid to the right and a stone-faced Jem’hadar entered. He pressed a controller, which seemed comically tiny in his large grey hands. Restraints opened and Julian transported away. He saw another grey room, this time bigger and with lights just a tad too bright. As he squinted, another jam’hadar stepped right in front of him.  
\- Doctor Julian Bashir, chief medical officer of the Deep Space Nine. This is an Internment Camp 371. You are now a prisoner of the Dominion. There’s no hope of escape. All that awaits outside is the vacuum of space, if you ever despair I will gladly offer you a relief, we don’t have stun setting on our weapons. You are a doctor, you understand mercy - Jem’hadar seemed very pleased with this joke. His face turned into a smirk, Julian never saw Jem’hadar smile before.

The same Jem’hadar (Julian found he was a Fourth) brought him to a barrack. Room was sparse with just a few cots by the walls. Assortment of Romulans and Cardassians was sitting on them.  
\- Human? That’s a first. - An older Klingon was sitting right next to the door. He looked familiar. His hair and beard were unkempt, yet his house insignia was polished. Julian dozed off every time Worf spoke of Qunos, but even he knew this Klingon was of high standing. Then it hit him.  
\- General Martok? You’ve changed since I last saw you. To be frank, I thought you were dead.  
Martok laughed until a cough started coming from his lungs. His arm hung limply and without thinking Julian sat next to him.  
\- My name is Julian Bashir, I’m a doctor. May i? - Martok nodded and Julian started examining it.  
\- So my replacement is dead? Good riddance.  
\- Killed by a room full of Klingons. Order of the Bat'leth no less.  
\- Good, perhaps you will tell me how this came to be and what dishonour this petaQ brought to me and my house. But first, what day was it when they kidnapped you?  
\- 50387.9. I will now put your shoulder back in, are you ready? - Martok nodded again and his face only barely moved when bone slipped back into socket.  
\- So your calculations are correct old man. And to think I’ve been on this godforsaken place for almost 2 years - a heavy set Caradassian moved on the cot in the back of the room. Julian recognized him immediately, and just as quickly the colour and the swelling of man’s face told him even more.  
\- I will get back to you, general, and I will tell you in detail how Odo found your replacement out. When you’ll be back you’ll get your honour back, of that I’m certain - he moved to Tain, who was slowly sitting up. - Enabran Tain, what a surprise, this room is full of dead man walking.  
\- Maybe dead, but walking is quite generous, doctor.  
\- No patient diagnosis, please! Let me see what I can do about it. Despite my better judgement.  
\- Is there someone in this galaxy whose meal you haven’t spit into, old man? - Martok’s laughter filled the room again. The rest of the prisoners looked at him curiously. Some had obvious signs of ailments he could help. And some of them have no less obvious mistrust or even disgust in their faces. If they managed to get along with each other he will be fit in just fine. Though, he thought to himself, he may have to dial down that charming personality.  
He was much less sure about being able to help Tain. He’d need entire might of his infirmary and station computer to give this man a few more years, but what killing him couldn’t be stopped. Tain’s face told him this wasn’t news to him.  
\- I know, I know I have but a few months left in me. Now, young doctor, why won’t you tell me what this fool Dukat is doing to my homeland.

By the end of the day he was exhausted. Cardassians have been suspicious, but treated him with a semblance of respects. After all if Tain trusted his care, he couldn't be all that bad. Romulans needed a bit more persuasion, but he was not pushy. He knew they did not care for federation doctors, but he was better than nothing, even if he couldn’t help much.  
Once current news spread across camp and Julian talked to anyone who needed his help he laid down on his cot. He felt a flat package in the back pocket and couldn’t help but smile. He opened a chocolate and shared it with everyone in the room. Imrak, a romulan who slept next to him smelled it suspiciously at first and then delight bloomed on her face when she realized it was a genuine Delvian confection.  
\- A present of Garak. I believe he’d want you to have it. - he told Tain as he passed chocolate to him. He kept one last piece to himself, just to have something nice to look forward to. In a place like this it was a luxury.  
\- When I sent a message to Garak I expected a response, I however did not expect a desert.  
\- You sent him a message? How? - This entire day he was fighting off despair every time it crept up on him, yet hope hit him like a lightning strike.  
\- My dear doctor, it’s time to discuss a few things.

Julian should have expected this. This camp was filled with survivors of the Tal Shiar and the Obsidian Order. A prison full of spies. And they brought enough resentment and anger with them to fuel all kinds of plots.  
It’s only natural that conspiracies emerged. In fact everyone in this barrack was in on the plan. And they were keeping it quiet from their fellow countrymen in the hope of getting out of this rock.  
Martok brought him up to speed, peace in the camp didn’t come easy. There have been a few assassinations and suspicious suicides. Grudges and revenge plots, all kinds of high drama. He couldn’t help but think Martok enjoyed how operatic it was.  
Julian for the first time felt alone here. He was the only federation citizen, the only human, the only doctor. Everyone else was trained to survive this, no matter the cost, if the person coming out of here is but a shell of a person before camp 371 that’s good enough. Well he could not do it. He will keep secrets and he will try to help. But first he’ll focus on staying Julian Bashir.

So far so good. Once Julian understood how Tain sent his subspace message he started working. Barrack doors had locking mechanism, now redundant, but still in place. He rigged open the lock and found a small replicator that was pumping air in the airlock. Under Tain’s instructions and with the use of his engineering extension courses Julian put together a small device capable of scanning and generating tissue. This finally allowed him to fix Martok’s old wounds, but of course there was no saving his eye. Klingon didn’t want it fixed either. He saw it as a price for being replaced. Julian never really understood honor, but he did understand consent. Maybe there will be a better moment to bring this up again. Maybe there will be a better moment.  
He arranged for other prisoners to surrender bits of their foods to him. The replicated vegetables substitutes were not medicine, but they helped to keep chemicals in Tain’s blood balanced. In a couple of weeks the old man seemed to move around easier and slept through the night. Imrak told him it hasn’t happened in a long time. They all became intimately familiar with each other's habits. She also looked at Bashir differently now. And he could not help but feel triumphant. Vanity may be a sin, but he was a damned good doctor even on this rock. 

\- You are an impressive young man - Tain’s face turned into a generous smile - for a human. I would expect nothing less from an acquaintance of Garak. He was always a good judge of a character - his face slipped if only for a second into a sort of worry that Julian’s own father wore so often in his subspace messages. Those messages rarely got an answer and for the first time in years Julian felt guilty. His guilt spilled into Tain. The old man was the only way out of this rock, and he was a patient. Yes, Julian knew how despicable and cruel Tain was, even though he only knew of a fraction of man’s crimes. But right now he was a weak and sick, he needed help, and he needed forgiveness. Julian gladly offered both to him. Tain’s piercing eyes met his own, Julian was never good at hiding his feeling, he never even tried.  
\- I miss him too. - There was nothing else he could say, he smiled his best all-knowing doctor smile.  
\- I will make sure to let him know. I see now why he wanted me to meet you. It’s rare that he cares enough.  
To that Julian frowned.  
\- As I recall it, he knew I would go to great lengths to save him and deliberately fed me information, so I would come to his rescue. Where I’m from this is called manipulation and not meeting the family.  
\- You know Garak enough to know it could be both. - This idea surprised Julian. Reading his expression Tain laughed, he was evidently in a good mood. - Man knows how to multitask, moreover what better way to convince me to help than to send a handsome young idealist. Your kind is my favorite, especially with some yamok sauce. Garak used to be one as well. I’m sure it pleased him to know you came to his rescue so eagerly. For a heartless spy he’s quite fond of a bit of a melodrama  
\- I’m glad to be that entertaining.  
\- You are exceeding all expectations, doctor.  
He was finished here, yet he hesitated. Even though a Cardassian in another barrack had a chronic inflammation.  
\- The way you talk about him, it’s so different from Garak I know. I know you think me naive but I know what he did, what he does. Maybe I chose not to see his other sides.  
\- Garak always found a way to become what I needed him to be. You know, he likes to say that truth like beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What you see in him is what he is when he is with you. Take that as a compliment. 

Once First saw that Martok’s wound have sufficiently healed two Jem’hadar came to escort him to the common area. Bashir followed and watched Martok getting beaten, the general gave him a look that Julian understood - “keep away”. Klingon was thrown to the ground, but he was cunning and patient. Young Jem’hadar fighting him ended up wounded, his arm was limp and bent unnaturally. Bashir approached him.  
\- Would you let me heal your hand? - Jem’hadar looked back at him with disgust, Julian didn’t care, - I can relieve your pain and given access to replicator I can fix it in no time. Please, humor me. - Jem’hadar looked at his first, his face a grimace.  
\- Shoot me, before this human gets his hands on me.  
\- I would never do anything without your consent, I know Jem’hadar are proud warriors. I know that with your metabolism this wound would heal naturally in a matter of days, - he looked at First and pleaded - please let him help him.  
First looked at him with a peculiar look in his eyes.  
\- He can no longer serve the founders, what is Jem’hadar when they can’t serve? Step away, human.  
Martok’s hands pulled him away, and he saw a flash. Nothing was left from the wounded Jem’hadar. Bashir looked back at First, he was furious.  
\- He was one of your men! - Julian expected First to be angry, but his reptilian features were calm.  
\- Yes, and I chose his fate. And you are going to spend some time in a solitary. I don’t want you meddling with my troops. You can heal the Klingon first.  
Bashir tended to Martok’s wounds, they exchanged looks in silence. After First personally escorted Julian. He pushed him into the cell, but he wasn’t rough.  
\- Your people train you to show mercy, to be weak. Here you are helping your enemy. You are in prison, defying me here means death. Is your mind weak as well?  
\- You won’t let me treat your people because you believe this is a way of Jem’hadar. You have your duty and I have mine. I don't want to undermine you, but I will not stop being a doctor just because I don’t have a medical tricoder.  
\- You are a fool, and I can see that I will have to kill you for your foolishness. But for your bravery I’ll let you live today. - He started walking out.  
\- First, will you let Martok heal before he fights your men again? - First made a noise that sounded like a laugh, though he wasn’t sure, after all he never heard Jem’hadar laugh before.

Bashir quickly lost track of time in the solitary. He filled time exercising and using that enhanced brain of his to follow up on his research in his memory. He wondered if the imposter Bashir did good job presenting his paper at the conference. Yes, he was vain, but dammit if it wasn’t a good paper. Once his mind would fog he would sleep. Then he would wake up in the dark cell again, meditated, went through all the breathing techniques he knew, but eventually despair started getting to him. He daydreamed about what he would do back on DS9. Some darts with Chief, a dinner with Jadzia, baseball game with the Captain. Maybe even a lunch and a book discussion with Garak. How lovely it would to worry only of how to politely describe 35 degrees of boredom he felt reading another Cardassian epic. Garak would not let him get away with anything. He drifted asleep and in his dream he had lunch with First and Garak, he remembered only how they teased him mercilessly.

He was annoyed when a bright light woke him up. Door of the cell was open. Two soldiers led him back to the barrack without saying a word. Martok told him it has been 3 days.  
\- I’m surprised you did not get any beating.  
\- First has a thing for him - Tain joined their conversation. Bashir was happy to seem him moving around - To Jem’hadar Julian is like a mythical animal. They talk of federation like they are the army of children with engineering degrees. And our young friend here is as federation as they get. He has quite an effect on people.  
\- Stop making young man blush, Enabran. You know that Cardassians flirt by being intolerable, Julian?  
\- Oh yes, we do that, we also insult our picks, but I try to keep this to a minimum, Jem’hadar don’t encourage fraternizing. - Julian didn’t mind them laughing at his expense. After solitary, he had a new-found appreciation for their company.  
\- What about physical contact? First Cardassian I’ve ever met was quite direct on our initial meeting.  
\- He must have gone completely native. We reserve physical contact for close friends, family and lovers. It’s extremely provocative. With the proposition like this Cardassians show they are, as human say, all in. They would expect the other party to decline explicitly or follow up. Invitation to share meal intimately for instance is considered equally titillating. Are you sure they didn’t want to bed you?  
Now Julian has blushed indeed.  
\- Look what you’ve done to the doctor. His human ears are not used to the alley talk, I’m sure he’d rather discuss some structural components of the nacelle cooling system.

In a couple of weeks they brought the first Breen. They spent most of the day laying down, but Julian couldn’t help them. He didn’t dare to meddle with their refrigeration suits, besides he knew nothing of Breen physiology. But soon the Breen started eating food they stored away for him. Imrak kept looking at him with distrust, she confided in Julian that she can stand an occasional Klingon, but Breen are not her cup or tarkalean tea.  
\- You shouldn’t trust him either, who know what’s going on under their suits.  
Julian was touched that she cared enough to warn him. However, she was the only one who managed to understand him. So to her horror she had to serve as a translator. Luckily for her this was a Breen of few words.  
Days in prison were repetitive, he followed his routine of exercise, rounds and what he called research, days when nothing interrupted it he considered good.  
Soon a bad day came: Tain took a turn for the worse. It was clear he had only a couple of weeks.  
\- You did what you could. I haven’t seen this man in such a good mood as in the last few days. Without him I don’t even know how we are going to keep the others from killing each other. In my darkest moment the old man reminded me that I still had what’s left of my honor as long as I had an enemy to fight and a hope to escape. It’s a pity he didn’t get to die in a battle, he was a formidable enemy.

There was a revolt in another barrack and Bashir spent a day assessing the damage. A few prisoners were dead. The rest he helped as far as he could. On the way back to his barrack Imrak harried to him.  
\- One of the Cardassian talked, get rid of your device. - she whispered before ducking into the side corridor. Thar’s when Julian heard heavy boots.  
He was grabbed by the Second without any explanation. Once again Julian was alone in the cell with the First looking at him.  
\- I knew we would have to talk again.  
\- I promise if you wouldn’t beat the prisoners I will stop treating them.  
To his surprise First seemed amused.  
\- This - he held up Julian’s regenerator - could have been and explosive device or an energy weapon.  
\- But then we all would be dead.  
\- Yes, and that would be a better end for those miserable spies. Some of my own men would rather die than keep on this post. You might have done everyone a favor.  
\- I am sorry to disappoint.  
\- You keep the Klingon alive. For that I’m grateful. Don’t get caught again. Or make sure next time you kill me or I will space you, doctor.

Julian went through his routine: meditation, exercise, imaginary game of rocketball. Once again Garak came to him when he was fast asleep.  
He estimated at least 2 days have passed before the door opened again. He was led to his barracks. There he saw a hulking figure of a Klingon in a federation uniform and in the farther corner of the room near there was a Cardassian tailor he knew so well bent over Tain’s cot. Julian’s mind went completely blank.

\- How long does he have? - Julian imagined their meeting differently. When he was in a good mood he imagined there would be a hug, when he was realistic: he thought there would be an amicable debate on the benefits of Bashir’s beard. He automatically stroked his rough jaw before answering.  
\- A couple of days at most. I am sorry, there’s nothing...  
Garak put a hand on his shoulder.  
\- Believe me I know. You did everything and even more. I am grateful, Julian. - Julian looked to the floor and felt silent. His name sounded strange in Garak’s voice.  
Next two days were hard. Barracks felt silent. Only occasional cheering when Worf was fighting reminded him that life was not standing still. Soon after the Klingon would come back beaten and bloody, but at least Julian could do something about it.  
He was in the room when Tain woke up. Garak looked at Julian as he lied to his father one last time. So Julian stood there and saw and heard entirely too much. In his mind he saw Garak as a little boy, determined and serious. And right there his heart broke a little for there was no treating years of pain he saw before him. 

Tain was gone. Garak was angry. And Bashir refused to learn a lesson about sentiment being a weakness.  
He passed the tiny package to silent Garak. This was a last bit of Delvian chocolate he hid in a mattress.  
\- How kind of you. You really should stop returning my presents.  
\- I swear I will do better next time.  
Garak looked at him intently.  
\- I knew something was off with you. I mean the other you. Do you know that you caught me trying to escape in a runabout with a gun in your hand?  
\- Was it the gun that gave it away?  
\- Or not at all. Remember, you shot me once?  
\- Oh I do remember, I wish I could avoid doing that.  
\- Oh not at all, that’s one of my finest memories. You made me very proud that day. But you wouldn’t catch me this time.  
\- Because I can only be a spy in a holodeck?  
\- Oh I don’t doubt that you’d figure me out. I just think you’d let me go anyway.  
As Bashir was looking for a reply, Martok approached them.  
\- Gentlemen, we have much to discuss.

Next time they talked alone was even less pleasant. Garak was pale and visibly shaken, like he hasn’t seen him since he treated him.. oh was it really that long ago? It’s been five years since he met the man, he learned plenty and knew very little about him still. But he did know when someone needed a good doctor talk.  
\- Your heart rate stabilizes. Breaks seem to work. I’ll try to trade something nutritious for you.  
\- Very generous of you. I have to ask you, Doctor, why am I so eager to escape? There’s nothing for me out there.  
\- There’s still Cardassia.  
\- Not for long, I’m afraid. And I am the only one not invited to the funeral.  
\- Why is Dukat excluding you? I thought he’d enjoy seeing you suffer as he rises back to power.  
\- Oh it’s Ziyal. Her admittedly misguided friendship with me must have caused him a lot of discomfort.  
\- Just friendship, Garak? As if the girl isn’t in love with you. You, me and her father all know it.  
Garak cocked his head and smiled at Bashir.  
\- You know, dear doctor, she reminds me of you?  
\- Oh?  
\- I must admit you are an acquired taste.  
\- I’ve heard something like that.  
\- Oh indeed. People like to make impressions of others, imagine seeing them in depth. Maybe that’s why Ziyal finds me so intriguing, I have more depth and dark places than most nations combined. But not you. Looking into you, I can see right into the bottom of the river, water is clear and fresh, cold and inviting on a hot day. I tried looking for any secrets, turning some stoned around. I’m sure you are hiding something, yet I know it’s of no consequence. Water remains clear. It’s refreshing if you pardon the pun.  
\- I’m glad to be of service on a hot day.  
\- Ziyal is much like that, only she’s not a federation citizen. People like her on Cardassia get exiled or killed. They end up dissidents or fools. And I hope to not see the day when she realizes who her father really is and joins resistance against him, inevitably. She’s better off on Bajor. No mater how many breakfasts we take together, I won’t save that child.  
\- I’m sorry - Ziyal’s feeling was unrequited. Bashir felt a pinch of sadness, but also something else he didn’t have time to examine. - Are you trying to save me with our lunches too?  
\- Oh but you don’t need saving. You’ll outlive this upcoming war and you will outlive me. And believe me this is no easy feat. Just like one of the earth’s philosophers said, river is never the same, you cannot enter the same water twice. And I will never tire of looking. Now if you excuse me, I have escape to arrange.  
Color returned to Garak’s face, and he walked to the wall panel as if he was back to his old self. 

On a runabout Julian slept without rest. He dreamt of running in endless corridors. First Jem’hadar following him with their big guns, then it was cardassians, and then it was just Garak. Julian was ducking into Jeffrey’s tubes, trying to make sense of the labitynth of walkways. And then it was him who was pursuing and Garak looked back as he hid behind the corner. But there was no fear in his face, only delight.

He woke up and was just a little surprised to be safe and on the way home. He lingered just a bit before joining the rest of his small crew. Staying alone just because he wanted to felt… nice? Sleeping alone without Klingon snore feeling the room was a pleasant change of pace. It was months since Julian felt so good.  
His mood turned sour when he remembered Imrak laying on the metal floor. She was a first Romulan to ever tell him a joke. He took his time before leaving the back of the runabout.  
Garak was first to great him.  
\- Doctor, hope you had pleasant dreams. In 4 hours we’ll reach the wormhole. I wouldn’t want you to be tired as you triumphantly enter the station, I’m certain your doppelganger made a lot of mess and I personally can’t wait to see your friends looking at you with distrust and fear. Now if you excuse me, I will rest myself, so I can enjoy this moment fully.  
As the doors closed behind him Martok turned to Worf.  
\- Would you believe that a Cardassian can be so in love with a federation doctor? - he said jovially.  
\- Galaxy is a place of many wonders - Worf answered in a tone that made it clear he had no interest in the topic.  
Bashir frowned and sat down.  
\- In love? It’s old manipulation fun and games for him.  
\- Ha! As if there’s a difference for an Obsidian Order spy. He wouldn’t know manipulation from love if it stabbed him in the back. - Martok laughed with his whole body, like Julian haven’t seen before. It was clear freedom was all the medicine he needed. Julian was left alone to ponder Caradassian psychology. He might be as clear as water to Garak but the tangle of feelings inside him was a riddle he couldn’t to solve.

***

It has been days since Garak returned to the station. He hated to admit, but he enjoyed working in the tailor workshop again. Repetitive tasks gave his mind freedom to wander and customers vanity and insecurities fed his curiosity. He needed time to mourn his father. And what better time to do it than with the needle in his hand. He was debriefed, of course, but federation people left him alone quickly. He suspected a certain young doctor might have something to do with it. Garak was grateful for this quiet time. But yesterday he joined the crowd in the promenade for the first time. The station might have been a cold and unpleasant space, but he missed it. Pathetic, yes, but it was home now. Especially now as Dominion troops settled in Cardassian space.  
Doctor Bashir entered right as he finished outlining a formal dress. He shined health and peace of mind, as per usual. His green eyes like salty mountain lakes of his homeland or some other romantic nonsense like that. His skin as always the color of Delvian chocolate. In short, the doctor looked irresistible and the look of him made Garak hungry. Good, he was about to take a lunch break anyway.  
\- Garak, hope I’m not interrupting.  
\- Not at all, doctor, you are a welcomed distraction for a plain simple tailor. - Did you come to invite me to lunch?  
\- Well, not quite. I.. - he paused and then took a deep breath - I’d like to ask you out for dinner this week if you are free. At my place. Just the two of us. I will cook some of my culture’s food, replicated unfortunately, but maybe be curious to you nonetheless. I promise to not bring up Shakespeare. - he smiled and the room became pleasantly warm.  
Garak didn’t like surprises, he despised when the unexpected happen, he prided himself in knowing the outcome and betting right. But he wasn’t mad this time  
\- I think the fellow grew on me after all. - he stepped closet to the Doctor. New uniform suited him. - Remember when I told you I used to be a gardener on Romulus? The orchids, oh, they require a lot of patience. And I thought I learned how to be patient. However, to you, I can only say, it’s about time, Julian.  
And for a short moment Garak forgot about the Cardassia, about war and about formal dresses. What a concept it was to look forward to something in times like these. What a foolish preposterous and delightful concept.

**Author's Note:**

> LMK what you think to this first time fanfic author. Enjoy your day!


End file.
